


Christmas 1980

by nightswatch



Series: A Series of Christmases [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, First War with Voldemort, M/M, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-11 00:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5606308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus comes home from an Order mission on Christmas Eve. He's not so sure if Sirius actually wants to see him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas 1980

Remus, for what seems like the thousandth time, tells himself to stop staring at the door and to just knock already. He’s cold and he’s been standing on this doorstep for a much too long time. All he needs to do is raise his hand and knock. He keeps both his hands in his pockets instead, one curled around his wand. Remus shouldn’t be standing here at all; he shouldn’t be out in the open.

But he’s not as scared of having to fight a duel in the middle of this street than he is of knocking on this door and facing Sirius. Because Sirius is definitely home, the lights are on in the kitchen and Dumbledore told Remus only few hours ago that Sirius got back from a mission three days ago. Sirius is fine. Everything is fine.

Except that nothing at all is fine.

All Remus wants to do is talk to Sirius, but he doesn’t even know if Sirius wants to see him. Chances are that what he’ll get for showing up here today is a punch in the face. Remus sighs. It’s still early, so early, in fact, that it’s still dark outside. He could leave now and come back later. Which is ridiculous, really, because he lives here and all his belongings are on the other side of the door he’s standing in front of. He has nowhere else to go.

Well, Lily and James most likely wouldn’t send him away if he came knocking on their door. But it’s so damn early and Harry is just a couple of months old and they don’t need Remus to unexpectedly show up on top of everything else. Peter’s place is also an option, but Dumbledore didn’t mention whether or not Peter is currently home. He might be away on a mission. Remus could go home. See his dad. He knows very well that he shouldn’t. His fingers tighten around his wand.

He can stand here, thinking up solutions all day with snow settling on his hat and his coat, but in the end all he wants is to see Sirius. He doesn’t want to go anywhere else, he wants to be right here, but he wishes the circumstances were different.

Remus lets go of his wand and knocks. Of course he could just unlock the door. _He lives here_. But just waltzing inside without a warning seems careless.

Sirius opens the door a moment later, his wand raised. His hair is longer and shaggier than Remus has ever seen it and he’s wearing the jumper that Remus gave him for Christmas two years ago. That’s all Remus has time to take in before Sirius slams the door shut in his face.

Well, he probably deserved that.

Remus takes a deep breath. “Sirius,” he says. He tries to knock again, but Sirius has already yanked the door open again.

“Is that blood on your coat?” Sirius asks.

“It’s not my blood.”

Sirius nods curtly. Remus is almost expecting him to slam the door shut in his face again now that they’ve established that Remus is not about to bleed to death right here on his doorstep. In the end he doesn’t, he just stands there in the hallway, leaving no space for Remus to step inside.

When Sirius tilts his head, Remus realises that he’s staring at him, at the blood on his coat, at the long gash that runs right along his jawline and up to his ear. It’s already healing, but Remus knows that it still looks nasty. Sirius’ eyebrow gives a twitch.

“You’re okay?” Sirius eventually asks.

Remus nods. He’s okay now.

“Okay,” Sirius says, turns around and disappears up the stairs. Remus winces when the door of his room slams shut.

“That went well,” Remus whispers and goes inside. He hangs up his coat next to Sirius’ leather jacket, his shoes, almost unrecognizable under all the dirt and mud, go in their rightful place next to Sirius’ black boots.

Remus, telling himself that it would be a terrible idea to go after Sirius right now, wanders into the kitchen. Chances are that there’s no food in the fridge, but it can’t hurt to check. His favourite tea cup is on the counter, although Remus is sure that he left it on the shelf. It’s not used, though, so maybe Sirius just considered hurling it against the wall at some point.

He would have deserved that, too.

The kitchen is suspiciously clean, like Sirius hasn’t spent much time here recently. The fridge, unsurprisingly, is mostly empty, except for some out-of-date milk and a piece of cheese. Remus isn’t even hungry. Dumbledore made sure that he didn’t leave without eating a little something and Remus isn’t sure whether or not he’s grateful for his persistence.

He slept on the Knight Bus, curled into an armchair. It took him forever to get back to London as they’d hit stop after stop. He’s surprised that it’s still operating, then again, these days there are more stranded witches and wizards than ever before. No one goes anywhere on their own. It’s understandable. People are disappearing left and right, they’re scared, they don’t leave their houses unless they have to. Not that anyone’s safe in their houses anymore.

Remus picks up his favourite cup and contemplates making tea. He shakes his head and puts it down again. The plant that grows out of the windowsill – lovingly dubbed Minerva by Sirius – is wilting. Not even the tinsel that Sirius has decorated it with makes it look any better. It’s a sad picture. Remus reaches out to touch one of its branches and it recoils from him. It seems that not even the plant wants Remus around.

He should apologise. Even if Sirius doesn’t want to hear what he has to say, he doesn’t want to spend the holidays avoiding Sirius, or being avoided by Sirius, so he at least has to try. Remus knows that he won’t stop being restless until he does. Although it’s entirely possible that he’ll be restless for the rest of his life. If they all make it through this. He wants to think that they will, that everything is going to turn out all right in the end, but he can’t deny that things look grim.

The stairs creak and Remus stares out the window, at the empty street, because he doesn’t want to see the expression on Sirius’ face when – _if_ – he comes walking into the kitchen. The sky is overcast and grey, promising even more snow.

It’s Christmas tomorrow and Remus hasn’t taken care of presents, he doesn’t know how or where he’ll spend Christmas, he doesn’t know if Christmas is even happening this year. There are Ministry notices everywhere, telling people to stay inside, to stay alert. The entire world is going to hell. But maybe, since the world is going to hell, it’s even more important for them to have a nice and normal Christmas, to pretend that everything is perfectly fine.

Remus sighs. He’s twenty, he shouldn’t be feeling this weary.

He can hear Sirius mirror his sigh, quietly. Remus can feel Sirius’ eyes on him. “Shouldn’t you have asked me some ridiculously personal question to make sure I’m not a Death Eater who’s impersonating me?” Remus asks.

“If you were a Death Eater, wouldn’t you have killed me already?” Sirius asks in return. “Anyway, I wouldn’t have known what to ask you.”

“I don’t know, something about our sex life maybe,” Remus says. He turns around, because he can’t talk to Sirius while looking away from him, not when he’s been waiting to see him again for weeks.

“I think the fact that you know that we have a sex life at all should be enough for me.” Sirius is hovering by the door, leaning against the wall, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans. He looks like he wants to run away. Remus can relate.

Sirius chews on his bottom lip. Remus isn’t sure what he wants to do more, to apologize or to kiss Sirius and pin him against that wall. The longer the silence stretches on, the more nervous Remus gets.

“What happened?” Sirius asks so suddenly that it takes Remus by surprise. “What… Fuck.” He kicks the empty cardboard box that’s sitting by the door. “I know you can’t tell me. I know that. Don’t say you can’t tell me.” He gives the box another kick. “I’ve been waiting for you to show up here for five weeks. _Five_ weeks. Dumbledore wouldn’t tell me shit. ‘Don’t worry, Mr. Black, I have no reason to believe that anything happened to him,’ he said. What a prick. He had _no idea_. You could have been dead. He just sends you off to fuck knows where and doesn’t know when you’ll be back and I…” Sirius takes a deep breath. He’s very persistently staring at the ceiling. “ _Fuck_.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus says. Finally. He’s been wanting to say this for five weeks.

It seems that Sirius isn’t done yet, though. His eyes finally snap back to Remus. “And then you finally do show up here,” Sirius says, his voice growing louder again, “and you’re covered in blood, and… you look like shit.”

“So do you,” Remus says.

Sirius grins. He pushes himself off the wall and slowly wanders over to Remus and right into is arms. Remus holds him tightly. He isn’t quite sure if he’ll ever be able to let go of him.

“Hi,” Remus says, just for the sake of saying something. It seems like a neutral enough thing to say anyway.

“Hi,” Sirius mutters into Remus’ jumper.

It seems that Remus’ plans of never letting go of him again are completely fine with Sirius, who has his arms wrapped around him so tightly that Remus’ ribs hurt. That might also have something to do with the full moon having been only three days ago. Remus ignores the sudden stabbing pain and buries his face in Sirius’ hair.

“I’m sorry,” Remus says again, just for good measure.

“Well, it’s not your fault that Dumbledore put you in mortal danger and then lost track of you and wasn’t sure whether or not you were still alive,” Sirius says gruffly.

“I meant about… before,” Remus whispers. “Before I left.” Sirius makes an attempt at pulling away then, but Remus doesn’t let him.

Sirius relents quickly. Remus can feel his fingers clench in the fabric of his jumper. “You know, ever since you left, I’ve been trying to remember the last thing I said to you. And I couldn’t remember. I still can’t. All I remember is that we fought the night before you. All I remember is what I said to you then. I’m sorry I said all that stuff. I really am.”

“It’s okay,” Remus says. He knows that Sirius didn’t mean what he said. He can barely recall the exact words. They argued so much, it’s all a blur of accusations and anger. Arguing is what they do because they don’t know what else to do sometimes.

Remus doesn’t like it that they always end up yelling, that they argue about everything and nothing. In the end it’s just a way to deal with the tension that constantly hangs in the air. Remus was never really angry at Sirius when they fought, he was angry because people were being killed and they weren’t doing enough and because they weren’t getting anywhere. They’re still not getting anywhere.

“It’s not okay, I thought you were dead and I thought the last thing I said to you was something shitty,” Sirius says. “What if you’d died thinking of all the shitty things I said to you?”

“Oh, so you really think I would have thought of you if I’d died?” Remus says teasingly.

“Of course you would have thought of me,” Sirius says. “Who wouldn’t think of the most handsome person they know in their time of dying? And, let’s be real, I _am_ the most handsome person you know.”

Remus can’t really wrap his head around the fact that they’re joking about this, about dying, and their last thoughts. They’ve come close, Remus less than two days ago, Sirius a few months ago when he was attacked by a handful of Death Eaters. It was a miracle that he got out of that alive. “You didn’t say anything shitty,” Remus mumbles.

“I didn’t?”

“You said _be careful out there_.”

“No, I didn’t,” Sirius says. “I would have remembered that.”

“You were half-asleep.”

“What?”

“I snuck into your room before I took off, in the morning, and you were sleeping. I just wanted to say goodbye, I didn’t like how we left things the night before.”

“And I said _be careful out there_?”

“You did,” Remus says.

“And you _weren’t_ ,” Sirius says. “Look at you, that’s not being careful.”

“I’m fine,” Remus says firmly. “I am. It was just the full moon.” Except that this time the scrapes and bruises aren’t entirely his own fault.

Sirius leans back, just a little, his eyes bright. He tilts Remus’ head to the side to take a look at the rather impressive scratch on his jaw. “Just the full moon?”

“Yes,” Remus says. “I heal quickly, you know that.”

“Remus,” Sirius says sternly. “Are you lying to me?”

“No.” Remus sighs. “A little.”

“Can’t talk about it, huh?”

Remus shrugs. He shouldn’t tell Sirius. There’s a spy amongst them, they all know it. Someone is informing You-Know-Who and his followers about their plans, their members, their every move. They’re all suspicious and mostly work on their own now. It’s Dumbledore who’s keeping them all together. But this is Sirius. If Remus is sure of one thing, it’s that Sirius is not the one who’s selling them out to the dark side. And Remus needs to talk about what happens, he can’t just carry this around with him.

Before Remus can decide on what to do, Sirius has already started talking again. “I yelled at Dumbledore,” he mutters.

“You didn’t,” Remus says, although he knows that it’s definitely, one hundred percent, something that Sirius would do.

“I did.” Sirius laughs. “He sent me off to take care of a thing, you know, as he does, and it only took a couple of days, but when I got back and asked if you were back yet, he said no. And then I asked if he’d heard from you. Guess what he said. No again. So, I sort of lost my shit. A bit. It was the night of the full moon. It was the second one you weren’t home for. That’s what I told him, too. Well, I was still yelling. You know what he said? He said, _I know_. So I told him where to shove it.”

“You _didn’t_ ,” Remus says again. There’s laughter bubbling in his chest. “What did he say?”

“He told me to go home.” Sirius takes a deep breath. “You weren’t home for two full moons.”

“Yeah,” Remus whispers. Sirius is clever, he’s figured it out all on his own.

“He sent you off to run around with other werewolves, didn’t he?” Sirius says, his voice so loud that Remus is scared that the neighbours might have heard.

Remus shushes him.

“No,” Sirius says. “He can’t do that. You… this… _no_. You don’t want that.”

“It was important,” Remus says. He brushes his fingers through Sirius’ hair, but he doubts that it’ll do any good. “And I happen to be the only werewolf in the Order.”

“Well, he needs to go find another one,” Sirius says.

“I’m not going back there anyway.” Remus can feel Sirius relax in his arms. “No need to yell at Dumbledore again.”

“I can’t believe he did this,” Sirius growls. “I can’t believe you agreed to it.”

“We thought it would be helpful to have contacts who are–”

“And did it work?” Sirius interrupts. “Did your oh-so-brilliant plan work out? Because I haven’t forgotten that you showed up here covered in blood. Not your blood, apparently.”

“I had to get away quickly,” Remus mutters.

“Why?” Sirius asks.

“They wanted me to do something that I didn’t want to do. I wouldn’t. Not by choice.”

“They wanted you to… turn someone?” Sirius finally untangles himself from Remus.

Remus finds that he can’t stand the way that Sirius is looking at him right now. “Apparently it’s what you have to do to join the pack. Officially. I got them to trust me enough for them to offer me a place within their pack, finally, but I just couldn’t…”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Sirius says.

“I could have got them to join our side,” Remus mumbles, “eventually.”

“You don’t know that and you’re not… you’re not that kind of person. And that’s a good thing. Dumbledore should have never sent you there in the first place. I can go yell at him again if you want.”

“I already told him that I can’t go back,” Remus says. It’s not like he has a choice. He’s spent the last two days trying to throw them off his trail. He spent half the day yesterday hiding in an abandoned house, just waiting for someone to break down the door. He didn’t dare come out until nightfall. “But I do appreciate that you’re willing to yell at him on my behalf.”

“Anything for my Moony.” Sirius gives him a nudge. “So, we’re… okay?”

Remus nods. He pulls Sirius closer again. “I really want to kiss you right now, but I should probably brush my teeth first.”

“Please,” Sirius says and gives him a kiss. He pulls away, eyes narrowed. “Fucking sent you to hang around with other werewolves.”

“Pads,” Remus kisses Sirius’ forehead, “let it go.”

Sirius huffs and puffs and scrunches up his nose. “Fine,” he grumbles. “At least you’re back for Christmas.”

“I’m afraid I’m ill-prepared for Christmas,” Remus says.

“Don’t you worry, I have a tree, and we’re invited to dinner at the Potters’ tonight,” Sirius tells him. “They were worried about you, too. I went to see James and Lily after I yelled at Dumbledore and I might have yelled a little more at no one in particular when I was there. Harry wasn’t amused and consequently Lily wasn’t amused either.”

“So they’re all right? James, Lily and Harry?”

“Except for the fact that Harry seems to have chosen me as his favourite target for all his drool,” Sirius says dryly.

“What about Peter?”

“I saw him two weeks ago, but he was in a hurry, so we didn’t talk for long. Apparently his dad isn’t doing so well.”

Remus hums. He’s completely out of the loop, although Dumbledore has sufficiently caught him up on their general situation, he feels like he was gone for _years_. He hasn’t seen Peter in months. He didn’t hear from anyone while he was gone; it would have been too dangerous to send off owls to his friends.

“Harry got so big,” Sirius says. “Well, you’re going to see for yourself tonight.”

“I don’t think they’ll be expecting me to show up with you,” Remus mutters. It’s not like he’s announced his arrival. Sirius is the only one who knows that he’s back. And Dumbledore, obviously.

“They won’t mind,” Sirius says with the confidence of someone who is used to showing up at other people’s houses at random times, not caring whether or not he is welcome. Remus is no stranger to that, mostly because Sirius tends to randomly show up in his room in the middle of the night to crawl into bed with him. Or, well, it’s what he did before Remus left to gain the trust of a wild pack of werewolves in the Black Forest.

“All right.” Remus starts running his fingers through Sirius’ hair again, just because he can and he wants to and he’s missed this a lot. “Or we could always let them know right now.”

“Actually, Dumbledore thinks we shouldn’t send too many owls, just in case someone’s intercepting them.” Sirius, rather abruptly, steps away from Remus. “Actually, I found this really cool spell the other day.”

“You found a really cool spell?” Remus asks, following Sirius who’s leading him into the living room. “Did it happen to lie around somewhere?”

“I found it in a book,” Sirius says and waggles his eyebrows at Remus.

“In a book?” Remus echoes. Sirius isn’t entirely indifferent towards books, Remus knows, but he has never been overly enthusiastic about reading either.

Sirius shrugs. “I was bored.” He pulls a wooden box out from under the sofa and opens it, showing Remus its contents with an expectant look.

Remus isn’t quite sure what he’s supposed to expect and at first he thinks the box is empty and Sirius is having him on, but then he sees the two small mirrors at the bottom. “What are those?”

“Basically, they’re for communication,” Sirius says and takes them out of the box. He holds one of them up in front of Remus’ face. “It’s brilliant, really. They’re easy enough to hide and you can talk to whoever has the other piece. Take one.”

Remus does, squinting at the mirror. He can’t see himself in it. “So, how does it work, exactly?” It becomes obvious a second later when he hears his voice echo in the room.

Sirius grins, across from him and inside Remus’ piece of the mirror. It’s a bit fuzzy, and his voice sounds tinny when he tries again, but Remus has to admit that it’s pretty neat. Actually, Remus agrees with Sirius, it’s brilliant.

“It’s not perfect,” Sirius says and takes the mirror from Remus, “but I’m working on it. I’ll give it to you when I’m sure that it works.”

Remus waits until Sirius has stowed away the mirrors in the box, then he says, “You’re going to give it to me?”

“Who else would I give it to?”

“I don’t know,” Remus says, even though he knows exactly _who else_. James. He could give it to James.

“Well,” Sirius says and shoves the box back under the sofa, “I just thought… when Dumbledore sends us off again… it would be nice to have something like that. So we can say _hi_ every now and then. And maybe we can also say _hey, I’m still alive_ occasionally.”

“Yes, that would be nice.” Remus leans over to kiss Sirius’ temple. He can finally do this again, he doesn’t even want to think about having to go away again right now. They’ll have to, there’s no doubt about it, but Remus has been home for less than an hour and he wants to enjoy it, just for a little bit, until reality sinks in.

Sirius is staring at him again, with a strange sort of half-smile on his face.

“Where did you find the spell?” Remus asks.

“It wasn’t an actual spell. Like, it wasn’t finished. I just had the idea when I was looking through that book on experimental magic you left lying around in my room. I don’t know, I didn’t have much to do during the last couple of days. Dumbledore wouldn’t give me anything else to do after I yelled at him.”

Remus snorts. “I see.”

“I just poked at those mirrors with my wand a bit and it worked out pretty well,” Sirius says nonchalantly. “You have to admit, I’m a bit amazing.”

“A bit amazing, yes.” Remus scratches at a speck of dirt on his trousers, his fingers freezing when he realizes that the dirt might, in fact, be dried blood. “I should really take a shower. And burn these clothes, probably.”

“Want any help?”

“With the clothes of the shower?”

“Both?” Sirius says. “I like you better without any clothes on anyway.”

Apparently, Sirius likes him without any clothes on so much that he keeps snatching away Remus’ clothes – wonderful, laundered clothes that don’t have any mysterious stains on them – and eventually pulls him into bed with him. Admittedly, there are worse ways to spend the morning. And noon. And the better part of the afternoon.

When Remus crawls out of bed and finally gets dressed to get them some food from the shop Sirius likes so much, he’s almost loath to leave. Sirius fell asleep halfway through a monologue on how much he loves Christmas dinner and is now snoring quietly, the arm that was previously curled around Remus now slung around Remus’ pillow.

Sirius is wide awake again when Remus returns, only pouting about Remus leaving until he hands him his food. They eat in bed and it’s still remarkably difficult to convince Sirius to put on clothes afterwards, even though Remus tells him that James and Lily won’t appreciate it if he shows up to Christmas dinner stark-naked.

“Please, James would be delighted.” Sirius makes a face and pulls on a pair of boxers. “Lily wouldn’t be, I give you that.” He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his leather jacket and wanders over to the window and pushes it open, smiling at the snowflakes that are settling on the windowsill.

Remus stays in bed, the covers pulled up to his chin, appreciating the view. “When are we leaving?” he asks after a while.

“Dunno, in a bit,” Sirius says.

Remus is sure that maybe James, or most likely Lily, actually mentioned around what time Sirius is supposed to come over.

Sirius turns around, his smile still good-natured. Remus doesn’t remember him being this happy a few weeks ago, before he left, or at any point during the last few months. “We’ll take the floo,” Sirius says. “We don’t have to go outside for that.”

Remus nods. The floo network can also be meddled with, of course, but the Ministry is keeping a very close eye on it to ensure that there’s at least one way for them to travel safely.

“Or,” Sirius says, an all too familiar glint in his eyes, “we could take the motorbike.”

“We are not taking the motorbike,” Remus says. “I’ve had enough excitement for a day, thank you very much.”

“Right.” Sirius tilts his head, looking at him intently. “You’re okay, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Remus says.

Sirius stubs out his cigarette and comes back over to the bed. He sits down at Remus’ feet. “Maybe next year…”

“Yes?”

“You know, this time next year this could all be over.” Sirius shrugs. “Just imagine not having to worry about your possible imminent death for once. What a concept.”

Remus pokes at Sirius’ thigh with his toes. “Next year?”

“Next year could be our year,” Sirius says. “Next year could be the year we spend less time spying on people and more time eating fish and chips in bed. Naked.”

Remus isn’t sure if he dares to be that optimistic, but he can’t help but smile at Sirius.

“Next year we could tell James. And Lily. And Peter. We could just tell them.”

They’ve reached a point where Remus doesn’t have to ask what Sirius is talking about. They’ve had this conversation too many times. “Yes, we could.”

“Or we could tell them tonight.”

“We won’t tell them tonight,” Remus says. “Even if we promise each other right now that we will, we won’t end up doing it in the end.”

“We’re _terrible_ Gryffindors,” Sirius says, shaking his head. “What happened to all that courage?”

Remus silently agrees. He smiles at Sirius. “Next year, huh?”

“Yes, next year we won’t find any excuses for why we can’t tell them. We won’t chicken out. We’ll be good at being Gryffindors again.”

“An excellent plan.”

Sirius grins. “My plans are always excellent.”

Remus would care to disagree, but he just sits up so he can give Sirius a kiss. Next year, then. Maybe Sirius is right. A lot of things can happen in a year. Maybe next year all of this will be over, maybe everything will have turned out all right for them.

He eventually convinces Sirius that it’s time to get dressed and Sirius convinces Remus that he doesn’t have to feel bad for not having any Christmas presents to give to anyone.

“You’re the present,” Sirius is saying as he pushes Remus over to the fireplace. He hooks a finger through one of Remus’ belt loops and pulls him closer. “And I’m going to unpack you later.”

“That’s the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard,” Remus says. He gives Sirius a kiss anyway.

“But you’re smiling,” Sirius says, looking incredibly smug.

His hands slide down, further down, until Remus squirms away. “Stop it,” Remus says. “We were going to leave an hour ago.”

“See, it doesn’t matter if we leave another ten minutes later.”

“If we leave right now, I will let you _unpack_ me.”

“Oh, Moony,” Sirius says and nips at Remus’ neck. It does all kinds of terrible things to Remus. “Are you going to put a bow around your–”

“Get in that fireplace right now,” Remus says loudly.

“You go first.” Sirius takes the pot with the floo powder and hands it to Remus. “I’m right behind you,” he adds with a wink, “checking you out.”

“Charming,” Remus says.

“Always.”

The last thing Remus sees before he steps into the emerald flames is the broad grin on Sirius’ face. Remus isn’t even sure if Sirius can still see him, but he grins back at him anyway.


End file.
